The ironically
titled A Perfect Day is single-minded
in its approach to show a 24-hour period in the life and efforts of a group of
combat zone aid workers, for better or worse. The simple premise allows ample
opportunity to show the realistic frustrations of battling bureaucracy and
bullish locals in the attempt to accomplish simple humanitarian goals. This is
done with an almost whimsical tone that allows wit to carry the narrative
without losing sight of the gravity of war. Even though there is drama and
suspense, the dry humor consistently sets the tone for a film about inaction.

Co-written,
produced, directed and starring Don Cheadle, Miles Ahead is clearly a vanity project for an actor often
delegated to play supporting characters to show his ability as a leading actor
and as a director. Biopics have an awful reputation of providing this
opportunity for actors trying to stretch themselves, but this is not reason
alone to unfairly judge Miles Ahead.
If it is predictable in its conception, at the very least the film takes an
unconventional approach to the material. Even with some expected flashback
sequences of the usual pitfalls of fame, the portion of the film taking place
during Davis’
later years is refreshingly unique despite staying tied to typical themes of
addiction and suffering.

Even by the
1990s the biopic was already something of a predictable sub-genre, just as it
has now become traditional fodder for award season. Even in 1991, Maurice
Pialat’s Van Gogh was rather
innovative in the approach toward a typical narrative of the struggling artist.
Nearly every biopic of an artist or a musician that I have seen in the last
decade has included some of the same elements of Van Gogh (addiction, suffering, depression), but Pialat doesn’t
dwell on the melodrama as others did before him and have since. While Vincent Van
Gogh may have even been more tortured than the rest, Pialat doesn’t
sensationalize this for dramatic purposes. Instead, he shows us a fairly
uneventful recreation of Van Gogh’s final days.

Cinema has a
long tradition of borrowing from the theater, but the two mediums don’t always
line up perfectly. Film is a far more visual medium, and the dialogue-heavy
stories from the stage can often be noticeably stagnant onscreen. This easily
could have been the case with The Dresser,
Richard Eyre’s TV movie adaptation of Ronald Harwood’s stage play, had the
casting been any different. Ian McKellen and Anthony Hopkins often approach the
material with the rawness only seen in live performances, but also give the
subtle nuances often lost without a camera or front row theater tickets.

There is little
reference for a film like Belladonna of
Sadness in modern cinema, a psychedelic adult animated feature from 1973
which is equal parts exploitation and art film. One could easily find the
influence of director Eiichi Yamamoto’s film in modern manga and anime, and
somehow Belladonna of Sadness still
remains unique in its style and tone. The film exists in the world of
exploitation, but titillation rarely seems to be the purpose of the shocking
imagery. Mixing psychology with the supernatural in order to tell an erotic
tale of revenge, this is a cult film unlike any other, now or then.